To Learn To Understand
by TheQueen117
Summary: Thorin and Fili are kidnapped by Azog before Battle of Azanulbizar. Thorin, affected by the Stockholm Syndrom, falls in love with his kidnapper after some time while Fili is raised as Azog's son. This is their lives. - In AO3 it is listed as a series. Here I am putting all the stories under one story so remember to read the summary before each chapter so you can follow along.
1. Prologue

**Disclaimer: I own nothing**

**Series: To Learn To Understand**

**Prologue**

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**Summary: **The nights in Moria are forever cold.

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"And it's hard to hate someone once you understand them."

Lucy Christopher (_Stolen_)

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The nights in Moria are forever cold.

His husband does all he can, piling them with furs and fires. Warm, feather filled blankets rest across every bed and lay tucked into every corner. Thick leather jerking and jackets lined with fur fill the closets. He even has a coat made entirely from the skin of a white bear, it's teeth and claws rest along the edges as buttons.

And yet, Thorin cannot shake the haunting chill in his bones.

Once, he had believed it was the spirits of his ancestors who iced the hallways. Their horror and misery over what had become of their homes tying them to this earth. But not anymore.

He no longer bothers to keep track of how long he has lived here - years, decades, it no longer seems to matter. Some days feels like eternity, while others pass in moments. Time is hard to judge here, in the Mines

He can barely recall how it used to be - Erebor, his family, his One - all having been sacrificed in the name of living. It is true that some days he carries fallacies of rescues or death, but they are fleeting in their instances.

He has two darling children to care for now, when once he had only himself. And while he does not believe his husband would ever be intentionally cruel, Thorin would leave their rearing to no other mother. He has seen the cruelty other mates have given to their step-children and he would see that such a fate would never befall his own.

To end his life would be most selfish.

In the next room, his youngest son sleeps peacefully. Tomorrow would be a grand day for him. His coming of age ceremony eminent and, should he be successful in his first trial, his son gifting of a companion - be it warg or bat or serpent - would require Thorin's presence.

Thorin can still remember the day his husband gifted him his companion, a black she-warg twice his size. He'd hated her at first and has since apologized for his ingratitude. He does not know how he would have survived without her. The she-warg, he would later learn her name was Ryok, had been forever faithful in ensuring that they had both food and water when Thorin had been suffering through his own Rites of Passage.

He could only hope his little one would fare better in his challenges than Thorin had.

His eldest had already completed his Challenges and had done stunningly, even setting new records in both stamina and kills. Thorin can still recall his eldest-born's smile when he had returned from his first raid bearing the head of the Goblin King - a long-time enemy who had once attempted to kidnap Thorin for it's own gain.

"_Mama_," his youngest called for him from the doorway, soft blues eyes blurry from sleep, "_Mama, why...why do you not rest besides me_?"

Thorin smiles at his son's accented _Khuzdul_. Long has he labored to teach his little one the language of his ancestors. It had been a battle with his husband to allow such education and it had been made even worse when Thorin refused to teach his eldest.

For all that he loved him, his eldest was not a dwarf. _Khuzdul_ was not his language to learn. As a compromise, Thorin turned to teaching both boys common in hopes that they would better understand the world and all its dangers.

"**I wait for your father, Fili**" Thorin replied in **Azerdajin**, the secret language of the Orks. It was a language hidden, developed by the Orks after the fall of Sauron. And despite the many years Thorin had spent learning and speaking **Azerdajin**, it would forever leave a bitter taste on his tongue.

Fili huffed, "**But, Mama, it is late. I am sure father will not mind. Let us go to the bedchambers**."

"**I would if I could, my darling**," Thorin smiled, "**But your father shall expect me in his chambers tonight**." He sighed when Fili's response was to only sulk more. "**Very well, I shall tuck you in and that is all. I cannot sleep beside you tonight.**"

Fili thought upon this for a moment and Thorin felt his heart ache. For all that 54 summers was old enough for his husband's race, a dwarf only came into his majority at 75. Fili was yet too young for battle. "**Fine,**" Fili conceded, "**But tomorrow you sleep besides me?**"

"**Aye,**" Thorin swears, "**Be it that your father shall sulk, tomorrow I am yours.**" And Thorin planned to keep his promise. He had little left but his word.

Fili's room was adjourned to the Master bedrooms based on Thorin's demands. For while his husband insisted that Fili was old enough for his own room, there was no denying that it was normal for both Thorin and Fili to wish to be near each other after all they have been through.

The room was opulent in its details. There was no hiding that the rooms held by Thorin and his family was once the same rooms that must have been built for Durin the Deathless himself. The walls shimmered with veins of mithril and gold. The floors were a cool, steel granite. There were murals painted on the ceilings, depictions of the creation of the Seven Fathers, that had yet to fade despite all the years. Even the furniture had survived the test of time. It's delicate metal and woodwork could have reduced the greatest of Erebor's crafters to tears of awe.

In fact, most of the original Kingdom was left standing and was used daily by its new inhabitants. Once, this fact would have driven Thorin to rage, but now only made him grateful as he tucked his son into a bed worthy of the prince he was.

"**Shall I sing you a song, my darling?**" Thorin asks once Fili had settled himself so that only his eyes peaked out from under the blanket.

"**Please and thank you, Mama,**" he giggled. It was a habit that Fili had enduring gained - to say please and thank you in one go. Once, the young dwarf would have balked at using such manors and Thorin was not hard pressed to stop the habit now.

Closing his eyes, he thought for a moment on what to sing and then took a deep breath..

_Roses whisper good night 'neath silv'ry light_  
_Asleep in the dew they hide from our view_  
_When the dawn peepeth through God will wake them and you_  
_When the dawn peepeth through God will wake them and you_

_Slumber sweetly my dear for the angels are near_  
_To watch over you the silent night through_  
_And to bear you above to the dreamland of love_  
_And to bear you above to the dreamland of love_

It was a haunting tune. And while the words have changes over the years, Thorin can still see his mother in the light of a dying fire putting his siblings and himself to sleep.

It is only after he had sung the lullaby twice and that Fili had fallen into a sleep that would hold till morning that Thorin choose to acknowledge his husband's presence.

"**How hard the day that you cast such dark shadows, husband dearest?**" He asked as he rose from his place by the bedside to meet his husband in the doorway of their son's rooms.

His husband was an imposing creature and, when standing beside him, Thorin was just a bit shorter than his husband's shoulder. His skin was pale for his race and rough from hard labor. His body scared from war and suffering, each cut a tribute to those slain in battle.

"**The council remains uneasy of the rumors.**" His husband sighed and with two massive arms pulled Thorin flush to his front so that he may bend down and take solace in the way Thorin remains safe in his arms despite the political strife that rocked the kingdom.

Thorin snarled, "**Surely they must realize their foully. Never have I schemed to place Fili on the throne.**" Leaning up, he wraped his arms around his husband's neck and stood on his toes to kiss his husband. "**But yet again, when has your council ever been known for their reason?**"

His husband purred appreciatively. "**Do not distract me, my love,**" he growled, "**For I am not the only one who cast dark shadows. What troubles you?**"

Thorin sighed, "**It is foolishness that allows the past to haunt me tonight. With the council calling false and our eldest, Blog, so far from home...I fear for you.**"

"**Do not worry,**" his husband murmured, running a loving hand along his cheek and up through his hair. "**I am not the one in danger.**"

Thorin scoffed, "**Only a fool would dare to seek your wrath after so many years.**"

"**And it is a fool that starts these rumors, but," his husband smiled, "Worry not for I shall protect you.**" And then in a flourish, he picked Thorin up as if they were once again newly-weds and carried him to their shared rooms.

It was Thorin's turn to laugh when he was thrown hazardously onto their shared bed. "**Then come my Lord, Azog, and distract me from my worries.**"

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**A/N:**

Song: Celtic Woman - Lullaby - Brahms Lullaby

Thoughts about the story:

1 - I CAN'T BELIEVE I WROTE THIS.

2 - This won't be updated often seeing as it is more of a plot bunny/brain fart that keeps coming up.

3 - I have no real idea what I'm doing with this.

4 - IF ANYONE WOULD LIKE TO WRITE SMUT FOR THIS PLEASE CONTACT ME BECAUSE I'VE GOT THIS SCENE IN MIND, BUT I CAN'T WRITE SMUT TO SAVE MY LIFE. IN FACT YOU COULD WRITE A FOLLOW UP TO THIS IF YOU WANT! PLEASE AND THANK YOU!

5 - The ending to this chapter is really shitty. I just needed to stop writing. I'm tired

6 - This is unbeta'ed and as such all mistakes are my own.

7 - This was a bitch to format. Like WOW, this was hard.


	2. The First Meeting: Azog

**Disclaimer: I own nothing**

**Series: To Learn To Understand**

**The First Meeting: Azog**

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**Summary: **Azog had not expected to meet his soulmate that night.

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In all the world, there is no heart for me like yours. In all the world, there is no love for you like mine.  
Maya Angelou

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It was suppose to be easy.

Get in, get out. Few casualties, fewer survivors.

They had been following the Dwarven cavern for three nights now when Azog finally decided it was time to strike. The refugees, for it was obvious that these were the Dwarves of Erebor who had lost their mountain to the Dragon, had begun to weaken from the strain of marching through the hills that bordered the Misty Mountains but had yet to run low on supplies. The haul left from this raid would stock **Ev's*** stores for a good three months alone. This plus the new farms would allow his kingdom to prosper through the winter months instead of just surviving.

He had not been planning on finding his **könül***.

He had been making his way along the perimeter of the cavern's camp grounds to his designated position when he came across a young dwarves resting against one of the sturdier oaks of the forest. It was obvious the youth had fallen asleep while on watch for he was sitting in the most awkward position against the tree with his sword half drawn and his horn lying within reaching distance.

Azog had seen this dwarf before. He was always running about, helping others in the cavern. He appeared to hold a great deal of respect amongst the dwarves, placing him as either a high officer in the military, a skilled craftsman (though Azog doubted it for the lad appeared far too young to be more than an apprentice), or a member of royalty. And while he had taken the dwarf into consideration when preparing strategy, he had not really paid attention to any real attention him...how foolish was he to not have recognized his soul, his **könül**.

Squatting down to get a better look, he ran a clawed hand along his pale cheeks. He was so very fragile, his dwarf; so soft to touch. Azog wishes to take him far away from here to his mountain where he could keep his **könül** safe, forever.

This world, rife with danger and hate and cruelty of all kinds, was not worth his dwarf's presence.

And as he traced the soft pout of his lips, up to touch the delicate flutter of his eyelashes, Azog wondered what color his dwarf's eyes were and if they twinkled when he smiled. He hoped so. He would be beautiful, his dwarf. With his head thrown back in a roar, lips curved in a open smile, his eyes light with love and happiness. His laugh would be the most beautiful sound Azog would ever here. It would be loud, he was sure of it, with a slight ring like that of the Great Bells. It would ring through the air, clear and sharp and lovely. It would settle in his ears, down his throat, and around his heart where it would sit warm to starve off the colder nights.

He only hoped his dwarf would give him a chance to see his smile, hear his laugh.

Azog was no fool. He knew what he was and what he looked like to the other races of Middle Earth. He was a monster to them. They had not understood the Orc's position and they still did not. They did not realize that in the beginning, his ancestors had but little choice but to side with Sauron, their creator and master. They had not realized the joy the Orcen race had felt when his ancestors had finally been freed of their bounds. No, the other races refused to acknowledge their suffering. Instead, they thought Orcs were creatures with no souls, no culture, and no thoughts. They did not realize that Orcs only raided for they were refused land to till and grow. That without the raids, his people would starve in their exile. Perhaps, one day, when the sun smiled upon his great-great-grandchildren, the other races would realize the error of their ways and accept his people as one of them. But for now, they refused to listen. They refused to learn.

He could only pray that his dwarf would be different.

And then there was a noise: "**Sir**?"

Spinning, Azog unsheaths his sword and snarles whist crouching to protect his **könül**. For a moment there was silence as his dwarf murmured and shifted against the tree, but still he remained, blessedly, asleep.

Azog let out a low sigh of relief.

"**Fool**," Azog hissed, "**I thought you a threat.**"

"**Apologies, sir**," his second-in-command and good friend, Boldog, grunted, "**But your men grow restless in their waiting. When shall you give the signal?**"

"**We do not raid tonight**," Azog whispered, turning his back to his companion to once again gaze at his **könül**, his dwarf. "**A complication has arisen**."

"**Is he the one? Your könül**?" Boldog asked, stepping forward as if to gain a better look and only stopped when Azog snarled possessively, posture tensing as if prepared to fight.

Once again, his dwarf murmurs in his sleep. His face scrunched up and for a brief moment Azog is overjoyed at the chance to look into his **könül's** eyes before remembering his position. For his dwarf to wake up with an Orc leaning over him...

So with great reverence, for he knew he had not yet gained permission to touch his **könül** in such an intimate way, he leaned down and placed a delicate kiss upon his dwarfs forehead.

"Rest my dwarf," he whispered in Common.

Shifting closer, his dwarf sighs against his chest. For a moment he appeared to say something but Azog could hear only one word, "...Dwalin..."

Silence.

And then in a great furry, Azog moved as if to punch and scream before remembering himself. Who had dared to touch his **könül**? To force on him such reverence? It was only his name that should pass his **könül** lips, only his face that his dwarf should think upon when at peace. For it was only_ he_ that could and should provide for his dwarf in the way that he deserved.

Standing quickly to ensure he did not do anything he would later regret, he cast one last longing glance at his **könül** before turning to leave.

Boldog did not say a word, but there was no pity, but only understanding in his eyes, and Azog was grateful for his friend's silent support.

It was only when they had called back the troop and where setting up for camp that Boldog said anything, "**Worry not, qardaş*. Östa* has blessed you with the sight of your könül, Östa is not so cruel as to keep him from you now.**"

"**I will strip this _Dwalin_ from his mind**," Azog snarled, his blood seething in his veins. Around him, his Orcs pauses to glance over at their leader but he pays them no mind. Let them know of what has come to pass and stay to remain witnesses. He places a fists upon his heart and yelled to the heavens, "**I will destroy this _Dwalin_. I will ride him of this Earth. I will scourer every crevice, every corner, every hole until his very line is wiped clean from the very soil. For it is only my love that my könül, my dwarf, shall every know of. Only my name that shall pass his lips.**"

His men, awed and moved by his pledge, roared and pounding their fists against their chests in agreement.

"**May you rip his head from his shoulders and mount it in the hall for all to spit upon,**" cried one of his Orcs.

"**May he quiver in fear and in pain as you show your könül the better person,**" called another.

"**And may your könül fall to his knees in awe on the battle field and pleasure in the bedroom,**" shouted a third, more brave and drunken of his Orcs.

Soon, Orc after Orc, soldier after soldier, came up to clasp their King on the arms and shoulder with blessings on their lips. To find your **könül** was rare for Orc's who where often too busy surviving to search. Such an occasion deserved celebration and Azog felt no guilt in breaking out the provisions and the alcohol.

Soon the party was in full swing and ever Orc in attendance was too busy attempting to drink the other into a stupor to care about their Dwarven neighbors. There was dancing and singing. Storytelling and jokes. Even Shagrat, the old veteran that he was, was wrestling playfully with the younger soldiers.

'**May the Böyük Bircə bless my love and my könül and show me a red sun on the 'morrow**' Azog prayed in silence to the sky before knocking back a drink and jumping into the fray.

**A/N:**

**Notes about Azerdajin:** It is actually the language Azerbaijan. There is no personal reason why I choose for it to be the language of the Orcs. I have nothing against this language. It was just that some of its words that I was looking to use sounded "right" in Azerbaijan compared to other languages. I just do not have the skills or patients to create an actual Orc language.

**Why did I give the Orcs a language:** Orcs, in the books and movies, are portrayed as mindless and uncivilized. They're monsters that hide under beds and in closets. Their only purpose is to play the part of the villain. I find this a fault in Tolkien's world. Nothing is that black and white. And perhaps it would be better to show this thought process in a more serious piece - we'll see over the summer - I figured it had a place in this story. And while, yes, Orcs do have their own languages, but their languages is derived from the Black Speech tying them directly to Sauron, something I do not wish to do. Another problem is that their languages differ so greatly between Clans that when speaking to one another they use Common or Black Speech. I want to show them as clever enough to have created their own language to unite the Orc Clans - there are 13 in the story, though there are more in the Lore - so that they may prosper in a united civilization.

Thorin is going to be entering this world that he sees as beastly to find that there is an intellect and a culture and a language that defines Orcs just as there is an intellect, a culture, and a language that defines any other race's culture. I hope the readers will be able to see this as well.

***Translations:**

**Ev** - Home - The Orcish word for their kingdom in Moria

**Könül** - Soul, Heart, etc - for the context of this story think of it as the Orc's version of the dwarven "One"

**Qardaş - **Brother - can be used for a blood brother, in this instant it is used to signify a deep friendship. Boldog and Azog are not blood related though they do hail from the same clan, as such the similar "og" ending to their names.

**Östa - **God - This is not Azerbaijan. I made it up. It is the Orcen word for God, but it is NOT their god's name. You know how people refer to god as "Father" or "the Lord." Well **Östa **is the Orcen version of such titles. This will be important at a later date.

**Böyük Bircə - **Formal/official name of the Orcen God - It roughly translates in English as the "Great One" or the "Magnificent One."

**Note About Translations**: I am unsure whether or not to repeatedly define words used in previous chapters. These words are used because they will be used continuously throughout the story. Do you think you can remember them or should I repeat them?

**Thoughts on This Chapter:**

1 - Took forever to pick the language

2 - Boldog is going to be pretty important in the coming chapters.

3 - Thorin is next!

4 - _READ THESE NOTES! THEY ARE IMPORTANT. THEY EXPLAIN CERTAIN ASPECTS OF THE STORY I CANNOT HASH OUT IN FULL IN THE IMMEDIATE TEXT. I AM NOT TOLKIEN! I AM NOT THAT GREAT AT WORLD BUILDING AS HE IS._

5 - **Still looking for a writer who would be willing to co-write or at least edit the smut parts.**


	3. The First Meeting: Thorin

**Disclaimer: I own nothing**

**Series: To Learn To Understand**

**The First Meeting: Thorin**

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**Summary: **Thorin is terrified he is going insane. Certainly there no creature stalking him from the forest. After all, why would there be anything following him?

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"I cried for all of those things that should have just been for us..."  
Kate Chisman (_Creep_)

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Thorin likes to think he is no fool.

He had noticed it about two weeks ago when he had been watching his young nephew, Fili, for Dis. The poor lad had gotten himself into another spot of trouble with some of the elders thanks to his habit of playing rather harmless, in his opinion, pranks. As such, Dis had taken away the lad's toys, which Thorin felt was a bit harsh. There was no other child in the camp old enough or young enough to play with the four year old. Of course he was going to act out a little. Ferenir had been the same when he'd been growing.

And while he had felt eyes upon him before, he had ignored it thinking it was the hunger or the tiredness playing tricks on his mind. But then a rustle in the trees and the soft sound of footsteps in the underbrush was heard when Fili's ball had rolled too close to the edge of the clearing they had been playing in.

Fili hadn't noticed. His young mind associating the noise with a harmless forest creature, But Thorin was no innocent. Such soft thuds could only be heard from the footfalls of a creature as large and as heavy as a bear. And there were no bears in these woods.

But he kept his fears to himself. Certainly it would not happen again. Perhaps it had been a lone warg desperate for a meal. Or a rather large man curious about the camping dwarrows. It was a fleeting moment. A passing. To think something was following him. Preposterous!

And yet it kept occurring.

Shivers crawling up his spin from unseen eyes. Soft rustles in the forest following him as he took his daily walks. A touch on his face and a blur of a memory of a voice whispering sweet nothings into his years when he, embarrassingly, fell asleep during watch.

Soon he began to jump at every sound and double check every corner. His family quickly became concerned, asking him again and again if something was wrong. Only Dwalin kept his peace, though he could feel his _azyungel's_* worried stare following him around the camp.

But what could he tell them? That he was being watched? Followed? They'd call him mad. And perhaps he was. Perhaps he was mad, madder than his grandfather with all his plans for Moria. Madder than his father, lost in grief. Yet, he was worse. Mad, driven by stress and failure until he saw things and shadows and voices on the wind. No. Best to keep quiet.

But as the days went on, the closer the eyes became and the longer the memories grew. It became increasing more frequent that he would wake to find the spot beside him still warm from the creature that kept him company at night.

He, sometimes, wondered what would happen if he only pretended to sleep. Who would he see sit beside him at night? Who would be whispering such kind words in his ear?

But at the same time the thought terrified Thorin. He did not wish to know what followed him in the forest. Least it by some horrid fiend thought of in only his worst nightmares who meant him great harm.

So he endured the eyes and the voice and found that over time, that which first frightened him now soothed him. The eyes were now a welcome reminder that he was adored. The memories tainted sweet with contentment. Oh yes, he still jumped and twitched, but less so. This appeared to appease his family who was glad to see he begin to relax again.

Only Dwalin continued to worry. But he was forever worrying. Less did Dwalin leave his side and instead spent his days guarding Thorin from whatever lay in the forests. And while Thorin complained and insisted otherwise, he was pleased by the new arrangements. He felt the presence of his visitor less so in the presence of his One.

And so Thorin would have allowed things to drag on as they were until the end of the late summer months that would signal the beginning of the camps journey to the pass near Gondor. Certainly the creature would not follow him through the Misty Mountains. But it appeared fate would have other plans.

For it had been about five weeks since the day Fili's ball had rolled to close to the edge of the clearing that Thorin woke too early. It was early dawn. The rays of the sun just skittering across the underbrush. And he could feel a warmth next to him. His creature was large, far larger then expected, and was holding him close against its chest. He could hear the gentle thump of its heartbeat and could feel the soothing nature of its fingers in his hair. So peaceful was Thorin that he could have continued to sleep had another not approached and spoken.

He could not make a great amount of what they said seeing as they spoke in a language he had never heard before. But he was quick to notice that every time the word **könül** was spoken, his creature's grip grew tighter, more possessive.

"Very well," his creature finally said in heavily accented Common, "I will come, Boldog, but there will be punishment."

"Understood, my Liege," this Boldog said, his voice heavy with annoyance. And Thorin wondered what they could have been speaking of.

Slowly, the King - for that was what his creature appeared to be - extracted himself from behind Thorin as if to keep him from waking. And it was only when he heard footsteps leading away from him that he opened his eyes to see if he could catch a glimpse of the creature who had kept him company during the night.

_Oh..._

Thorin blinked, refusing to believe at first, but the more he stared the more obvious it became, "I am being followed by an orc?" Thorin asked in disbelief, "I am being followed by an _orc_!"

**A/N:**

**Notes on Orcs Continued: **Recently I had an interesting conversation with a user, Jeun, who had her own ideas/headcanons about Orcs which actually increased/edited/rounded my own headcanon. Don't be afraid to speak to me, guys! Your input makes this story better. Remember, I'm making shit up on the fly. This has not been planned out in the slightest.

So anyway, I told Jeun that I though Orcs were very similar to Vikings and this is what I meant. Vikings are known for pillaging and raiding and rapping their way across Europe. And one of the major reasons they did this was because their homeland was not easy to farm. So cue the Orcs! They are in a similar position. They don't have access to farmable land. During the early days, like immediate post-death-of-Sauron, Orcs were continuously being run off their land until finally they found a foothold in some of the most uninhabitable places in Middle Earth like the ruins of Mordor and the Mines of Moria - they have carefully built their lives in such a way as to stop from igniting the rage of the Baldrog. And you can't really farm there. So instead they raid. They pillage. And, because they can and they're warriors, they rape.

In the story, Azog remarks that they raid plus some farms will allow them to get through the winter. This is because I believe, thanks to dwarven scripts, that the Orcs have stumbled upon sustainable, low input farming similar to what humanity is developing today (go check this out, it is a really big revolution currently going on in the agrobusiness and you should know about it). You'll see more on that later.

***Translations:**

_Azyungel - _Treasure - used in this instance as a pet name for his One, Thorin means too call Dwalin his "greatest treasure," implying that he cannot live without him.

**Thoughts on This Chapter:**

1 - KHUZDUL! Or at least a word.

2 - I am making a character profile in my head for Boldog and he is just the sweetest thing

3 - Thorin is hard to write. I tried to make him more formal and his thoughts are meant to come off as very articulate. The irony being that when speaking he makes an effort to use as few words as possible. Especially when speaking Common. I don't think he enjoys speaking in Common.

4 - Azog is such a stalker.

5 - And Dwalin is such a sweetheart. Maybe I'll let him live.

6 - I am so glad so many of you enjoyed the Orcs! You'll learn more about my headcanon for them at a later date.

7 - Pay attention to the quotes.

**Questions for Readers: **

1 - Does anyone have any good sources for _khuzdul_? Not neo-khuzdul, just _khuzdul_?

2 - **No one has told me whether or not they want the Azerdajin or _Khuzdul _words repeatedly defined. I'm thinking of making a separate "story" that would hold ALL the non-Common words used in this series that I would update regularly. Would you like that?**

** Edit - Notes on the Word ORC:** I had the most fascinating conversation with my friends about when and why we capitalize God. And we decided that when referring to the "being" - in terms of religion's God - that out of respect, even if you don't believe, you capitalize God because it is then a proper noun. But when referring to God in the terms of the idea of god, the idea of an ultimate being, and not a specific being then it is okay to lower case God if you want to.

So why am I telling you this?

Well, Azog refers to Orcs with an uppercase O. Thorin does not. Thorin sees, as he has been trained culturally, Orcs as orcs, lower case o, because he doesn't see them as beings. Orcs, to Thorin, don't deserve an upper case O because they are things. They are things that happen to be alive. They are things in the sense a dog or a cow is a thing. Certainly, Thorin respects the Ravens (upper case R) and the Wargs (upper case W) for their cunning, but Orcs are not intelligent enough to deserve that upper case O. And it isn't something he consciously decided to do. It is just...a habit. Just as white people, once upon a time, habitually refereed to African Americans as Niggers and Negros. It wasn't them being actively racist, it was just a societal habit.

I just decided to do it and I wanted to point it out to you guys - or at least the ones that bother to read these long as notes, I mean wow, the notes are longer than the story - so you can pay attention to the upper casing/lower casing of certain words so you can start to notice the subtle changes in Thorin's POV when the time arrives.


	4. The Start

**Disclaimer: I own nothing**

**Series: To Learn To Understand**

**The Start**

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**Summary: **The next time he sees the orc, Thorin is playing in the field with Fili.

* * *

"They should make blindfolds with circles cut out where the eyes are, so kidnappers would be able to tell when their victims' eyes are closed, so their secret locations aren't revealed. "

Jarod Kintz (_This Book Has No Title_)

* * *

The next time he sees the orc, Thorin is playing in the field with Fili.

For the past three weeks he had done everything he could to keep himself safe. He had taken to wearing his arms wherever he went and sticking to Dwalin more than usual. H e had even switched his watch to an earlier, shorter slot that was closer to the camp to that he was not as likely to fall asleep - though the days were weary and his body could only do so much.

He had even begun to feel the eyes of the orc less and less as the days went on. He began to hope that it was losing interest in him which was the only reason he had dared to bring Fili out to the clearing, alone.

Later, when Thorin dares to think about it, he was never able to quiet remember what had happened.

One minute, Fili was running around pretend to be the great Dwarven warrior he would one day grow up to be, the next he was screaming and squirming as he struggled to get away from the giant, pale orc that held him captive.

"_Uncle Thorin!_" he screamed, "_Uncle Thorin!"_

"Shhh...** Balacıq***, " The orc hissed, running an almost soothing hand through the young dwarf's hair as it shifted so Fili lay securely against his chest.

Thorin shivered as he unsheathed his sword and Fili quieted to muffled sobs. Once he had almost taken comfort from those hands. "DROP HIM!" he roared. "And I swear you no harm!"

"Sheath your sword," The pale orc said, his accent thick, "And no harm shall come to our **Balacıq**."

Thorin snarled, looking for an opening. The orc had strategically placed Fili in such a position that if it wished, it could easily snap his nephew's neck. He had to be smart about this. One wrong move and it could cost a life he was not willing to risk. Desperate to buy time, he asked, "Are you the orc who has been following me?"

The orc seemed almost pleased, "I am, my **könül**." And there was that word again.

"Why?" Thorin asked, edging a little closer, but the orc noticed and stepped to the side so the distance between the two did not close, "Why me?"

"Fate?" the orc grunted, "That is what it is called in common, yes? Fate, my Thorin."

"I am not yours!" Thorin spat, disgusted by the way the orc dared to refer to him as a possession. "Now give me the dwarfling!"

And just as it looked like the orc was about to argue, Thorin picked up sounds of battle from the direction of the camp.

"What have you done!" Thorin shrieked and moved as if to run back before remembering his position. He could not leave Fili.

For a brief moment Thorin was sure that he saw guilt filter across the orc's face, but he doubted it. "They shall live," the orc smiled, "But only...if you come with me."

Thorin stepped back as if physically struck, "Come...come with _you_?" he cried, "I..." But he was cut off when a poignant scream cut through the air. He would know Dis' voice anywhere. Finally, he was able to hear the sounds of battle.

"Come with me, Thorin," the orc called his attention just as a great white Warg entered the clearing, "And I shall call my Orcs back and swear no harm on our dear Fili."

Thorin swore and squeezed his eyes shut, trying to collect himself. He knew what he had to do, but that didn't mean he had to like it, "How can I trust you?"

"I would not lie to you," the orc swore and for some odd reason, Thorin found himself believing it. There was something in its voice...

"And you will stop my men and return Fili unharmed?" Thorin asked once more in a desperate bid to gain more time. But he knew the reality of the situation. Their cavern was small. And while their warriors were strong, they were still recovering from the wet spring that had bought many pestilence upon his people. And while they would fight, they would not win.

"I will." The orc swore. It looked delighted. It knew it had won.

"Very well," Thorin called out, sheathing his sword and standing firm as the orc approached. He may have lost, but he would not lose face in front of his enemy. He would stand firm.

Opening his arms, he gathered his nephew to his chest. The poor dwarfling was shaking.

"_Uncle Thorin_," Fili whispered quietly as the orc mounted his Warg, "_We should run away!_"

"_I can't,_" Thorin sighed, accepting the orc's help in climbing a top the Warg.

Clearing his throat, he allowed the orc to pull him close to its chest so that it could gather the reins easily.

"Where will be leaving Fili?" Thorin asked just as the Warg readied itself for a long run.

"Leave him?" The orc laughed, "Why would we leave our dear **Övlad ** behind?

**A/N:**

**Notes on the Word ORC:** I had the most fascinating conversation with my friends about when and why we capitalize God. And we decided that when referring to the "being" - in terms of religion's God - that out of respect, even if you don't believe, you capitalize God because it is then a proper noun. But when referring to God in the terms of the idea of god, the idea of an ultimate being, and not a specific being then it is okay to lower case God if you want to.

So why am I telling you this?

Well, Azog refers to Orcs with an uppercase O. Thorin does not. Thorin sees, as he has been trained culturally, Orcs as orcs, lower case o, because he doesn't see them as beings. Orcs, to Thorin, don't deserve an upper case O because they are things. They are things that happen to be alive. They are things in the sense a dog or a cow is a thing. Certainly, Thorin respects the Ravens (upper case R) and the Wargs (upper case W) for their cunning, but Orcs are not intelligent enough to deserve that upper case O. And it isn't something he consciously decided to do. It is just...a habit. Just as white people, once upon a time, habitually refereed to African Americans as Niggers and Negros. It wasn't them being actively racist - no actively racist would be like lynching - it was just a societal habit.

I just decided to do it and I wanted to point it out to you guys - or at least the ones that bother to read these long as notes, I mean wow, the notes are longer than the story - so you can pay attention to the upper casing/lower casing of certain words so you can start to notice the subtle changes in Thorin's POV when the time arrives.

**My Thought Process Behind Övlad and Why Azog Took Fili**: Azog has begun to see Fili as his own child because Thorin is always around Fili. In the story, he's the one usually taking care of the child around camp. It's not because Dis is a horrible mother, but because she is young and expected to do a multitude of chores that would bore a child. While Thorin, who has the same work load, gets to do things like hunting, fetching firewood, cleaning weapons, helping the sick/elderly which is far more exciting for a young boy like Fili then washing and mending clothes and cooking.

So when Azog was spying/stalking Thorin, he'd see this young dwarfling with his **könül **and begin to think that Fili is Thorin's son not his nephew. So he's actually trying to ensure that Thorin isn't separated from his direct family and being a good guy when in reality he's got the situation entirely wrong. Because like he said earlier, he's no fool. Azog knows that this isn't an easy decision that Thorin is making and that Thorin will probably hate him for it. But Azog hopes that he can convince his **könül **to love him the way he already loves Thorin. He just _can't _live without Thorin.

***Translations:**

**Balacıq - **Little One - It is a term usually reserved for kin or close friend's children. It means that the adult has a close relationship with the child.

**Övlad - **Child - So while **Balacıq **is a term also used for a child, **Övlad **is used when refering to one's direct descendent/heir. **Balacıq **is more of a nickname or pet name while**Övlad **is similar to a title: "This is my son" kind of thing.

**Thoughts on This Chapter:**

1 - THAT WAS TERRIBLE! But it needed to be written so here we go. Now we can get to the fun bits! XD

2 - Azog...oh dear...

3 - Poor Thorin...

4 - Poor Fili...

5 - You know the story is actually only 840 words. The notes are 720 something words. That's not good. I need to figure out a better system for this stuff.

**Questions for Readers: **

1 - Would anyone read a story about Azog's childhood?


	5. Time: Part 1

**Time: Part 1**

**Dying**

**Summary: **Thorin isn't going to last long the way things are going.

* * *

A forest bird never wants a cage.

Henrik Ibsen

* * *

**NOTE: **After this is where things get tricky. The next two chapters I am working on take place BEFORE this one and then I will come back to write the second part of _Time_. I would really suggest checking out my AO3 so you can keep better track of what has been going on. You can find it by looking at the Azog/Thorin tag. The series is called _To Learn To Understand._

* * *

Fili woke him for breakfast with a gentle shake of the shoulders and a strained smile.

He could tell his dear nephew was beginning to worry about him. And how could FIli not?

He did not eat. He could not sleep. Every day, he sat lifeless on a rocking chair facing the solitary window in their apartment. Sometimes, he could find the energy to knit or read or write. But most of the time, he did nothing but wait for the sun to set so he could return to his bed.

And while Thorin knew he was hurting his nephew, he could not change himself. He no longer had the will to move, to fight, to _be_. And as every day dragged on, what little life he had left continued to leave him until he was sure he would die in these rooms, turned to sand.

Six months…six months had passed since that orc had taken his nephew and himself from their people.

A first, Thorin had attempted to escape. Every time, his madness had cost him nights in the dungeon where that pale orc, who called himself Azog, would sit by his cell and in broken common beg for him to calm himself, to accept his fate. But Thorin had spat at his face and screamed till his voice grew hoarse that he would never allow himself to become that thing's pet.

At one point, he'd become so enraged, he'd attempted to strangle the creature through the bars of his cell...He still did not understood why it nearly let...

It was only when during one of his escape attempts that Fili was injured by one of the guards that he finally accepted that he would not be able to leave here by force.

So now he sat, trapped like a song bird in a pretty little cage - for the rooms he held were immaculate if not a little gaudy in their design and rivaled the richness he was familiar with even in Erebor - waiting to see what Azog would do to him next.

For he was under no impression that his fate here would end pleasantly. These were orcs, the blackest of creatures, servants of the Dark Lord Sauron. He'd grew up hearing stories of their cruelty and had spent most of his adult life fighting these creatures when they attempted to take their cavern now that the Dragon had exiled them from their home.

He only wished he could have spared his nephew this fate.

A small hiccupping noise, brought him out of his thoughts and he looked up to find that he had moved to the dining table where Fili, his sweet innocent Fili, had set a plate for him. Across from him, Fili held his face in his hands, shoulder's shaking.

Guilt shot through Thorin as hot and cruel as a dagger and slowly he rose to gather his nephew into his arms. Rocking the child softly, he settled them on one of the plush couches that dotted the room.

Instead of insulting them both by asking what was wrong, he murmured sweet, meaningless phrases like "hush little one" and "all will be well." But it only caused Fili to cry harder.

Not for the first time, Thorin ached for Dis. He was not cut form a maternal cloth. His sister would not have had any trouble calming his little nephew down. And while Fili had enjoyed spending the afternoons playing with his Uncle in the field, Thorin could tell that he longed for his mother to care for him in ways that Thorin was not able.

"'m so-sowry," Fili said once he'd seemed to have lost the ability to create any more tears, though his shoulders continued to heave.

"Shhhh…my little One, you have nothing to be sorry for." Thorin sighed, pulling his nephew closer. Fili deserved better than this. He deserved his mother and his father. He deserved to run around and play with other dwarflings. Not stay cooped up in these rooms at the mercy of these horrid creatures, may the Vala strike them.

"I - I...Please," Fili sobbed, "Pw-Please smile again."

Thorin could feel tears gathering in his own eyes. Tears for his nephews. Tears for their hopelessness. And tears for all that they had lost, "I am so sorry, my dear Fili, Oh…I wish I could…So...sorry..."

That was not the answer Fili had been looking for and it brought forth another wave of tears and Thorin could do nothing but ride it out with him, his own tears falling.

Thorin wished he could take his words back, lie, and tell Fili he'd be all right. But he could not lie to his young charge, he'd never been able to even when the truth was not so easy to bear.

For Thorin knew he would not survive another six months in this cage. He would not be able to stand it.

Only time would tell when these rooms finally killed him.

…

That was how Blodog found them two hours later, curled up on the couch, fast asleep with tear marks on their cheeks.

He walked over and, with great care and reverence for this was his brother-in-all-but-blood's greatest treasure, lifted Thorin and his nephew from the sofa and carried them to the bed in the next room.

So worn out where the two dwarves, that Thorin merely tightened his grip on his nephew and murmured a soft "thank you" when Blodog lifted the covers over the weary dwarves.

"Nothin' o'it, **mənim şahzadə**," Blodog replied in broken Common. It had been long since he had studied the language having never needed a reason to speak it.

Walking slowly around the room, he blew out the candles and closed the drapes before finally taking his leave to speak to Azog.

Brother or not. He needed to realize what he was doing to his konul.

***Translations:**

**mənim şahzadə** - my prince/princess

**Thoughts on This Chapter:**

1 - It's also been decided by me that Dwalin and Fili will get their own POVs because I hate myself.

2 - Sex scene...You sure no one wants to write it for me? *crying*

3 - Up next, Dwalin's POV about what the hell has been going on recently.


	6. Wandering Eyes

**Interlude: Wandering Eyes**

**Summary: **Thorin was like a siren calling to him and he was powerless to resist.

* * *

Fine, I'm a stalker, FINE.

Molly Ringle (_Persephone's Orchard)_

* * *

**A/N:** won't let me reorder the chapters. _**This is set Pre-The Start (Chapter 3)**_

* * *

The past three weeks had been some of the most trying in all of Azog's long years.

To have his **könül** so close and yet so far away… Oh! Let**Östa** strike him from this Earth for it would be less painful than this.

His Orcs did not begrudged their leader his obsession. They understood. To find one's **könül** was the greatest moment in any Orc's life. It made sense that Azog would wish to be close to his dwarf. But still Azog swore to repay their patients. Come the day they return home, he would hold a great feast to honor both their service and the finding of his könül.

At times his Orcs would even come and keep him company, but only for short times. He has soon learning that he was very possessive of his **könül** and detested the idea of another looking upon what was his with admiring eyes. Boldog was a blessing. As his second-in-command, Blodog kept the Orcs from acting out or attempting to attract attention of the Dwarven camp as their leader attempted the best way to secure his **könül**.

He was alone now, watching his dwarf bustle around the camp, playing with the children and helping cook the afternoon lunch. His dwarf was always busy, always working. It would be the first thing Azog planned to change when he finally took his dwarf back to **Ev**. Never again would his dwarf be forces to lift a hand. His könül deserved to be pampered and cherished. Only the finest would touch his dwarf. He would make sure of it.

"Thorin!"

Azog snarled, a deep animalistic growl bubbling up from the depth o his throat. There he was. That swine. That _cur_. Not fit to lick his **könül **boots let alone touch him in such intimate ways. He forced back the urge to kill as he was forced to watch his dwarf be kissed by another, and once again Azog swore to rinse the earth of the vermin as he watched it hold what was destined to be his since birth.

"Dis sends a message," It grins. It's face still too close to Thorin, "That the lake is free and private."

Thorin…what a lovely name.

The first time Azog had heard it. It had been spoken by his **könül's Övlad** - the golden haired dwarfling that followed Thorin about camp. It had been late and Thorin's **Övlad** had asked for a song. Azog cannot recall the exact words for they had been spoken in a language he had never heard before. But it had been a beautiful song. Warm and passionate, his dwarf's voice had cut through the air like the rings of a bell calling for attention.

Thorin smiled, "As tempting as the offer is, I swore to care for Fili today. Perhaps later."

Azog sighed in longing and admiration. His dwarf was so kind, so giving. For all the hardships and burdens, Thorin was forever smiling and laughing. His eyes, a dazzling blue, always full of warmth. It was obvious who his dwarf had once been. Thorin, son of Thrain, son of Thror, Crown Prince Under the Mountain. A member of royalty befit all the riches this Earth could offer, reduced to the duties of a chambermaid.

It made him sick.

"As long as you are sure?" His dwarf's voice drew his attention just as a fire drew a moth. Thorin had such a voice…he could listen to his dwarf forever no matter what he was saying. He could be reading the **Böyük Hekayə* **- the driest of Orcish literature in Azog's opinion - and he would still never find it boring.

Glancing up, he watches Thorin hand his **Övlad** to that vermin with a smile, "Remember that he takes his medicine before lunch," Thorin said, "And no matter how he begs, no cookies before dinner."

The brute waved his **könül** off with a smile and Azog watched with great appreciation as Thorin turned and walked away. His dwarf was a sensual being. All he had to do was whisper and Azog would coming to his service. With a face that kings would fight over and a voice that could tame the wildest of beasts with the sweetest of words, Azog was powerless to resist.

Crouching low, he moved silently through the forest, hidden by shadows, so as to continue watching his dwarf. Thorin stopped briefly in camp to collect some things from his tent before continuing to the eastern side where the gentler of two rivers lay.

Thinking that Thorin was to embark on his weekly fishing attempts - it was quite obvious the young prince was not used to such rugged environments, rather his nature more inclined to the softer ways of life - he was content to nestle himself against one of the larger oaks.

Azog knew this behavior was unhealthy. That it would be much better to simply grab his könül and ride. But he could not always do what he wanted.

His people needed those supplies. As king, it was his duty to get those supplies. But after having missed out on their previous chance thanks to the finding of his one, they would need to devise a new way to gather both the supplies and his Thorin (perhaps even his Thorin's **Övlad** if possible). Azog shuddered to think of what would have happened if he had not come across his beloved dwarf that night. If Thorin had been slain…If Azog had been too distracted by battle to recognize his dwarf for who he was…the mere thought was cause for enough nightmares.

It was only as Thorin began to remove his boots that Azog realized what was happening. He knew it was improper. That as an untried suitor, he had no right to see his**könül** bare and in such a vulnerable position. But no matter how his mind screamed at him to move, his body would not comply. It was if he had grown roots.

Mesmerized, he watched as Thorin slowly shed his outer wear. First his heavy, fur coat that emphasized his broad shoulders. Then his armor to reveal a thin tunic that hide nothing of the lean body underneath, honed from years training to be a swordsman.

And then off came the tunic, fluttering from his shoulders like wings to reveal pale, smooth skin so different then his own scarred flesh. Then went his belt and trousers until he was naught but in his undergarments, and Azog knew he should turn his head, should look away, but he could not. So he stayed.

And then, as if he could sense his presence and wishes to give a good show, Thorin reached up to the sky, back muscles rippling under glowing, smooth skin. And then down he went, bending to touch his toes so Azog was presented with an eyeful of his ass, pale from the lack of sunlight and so, so soft looking.

And Azog was sure he had been found out when Thorin let loose a groan as he rose, rolling his shoulders and sighing, a sound that went straight to Azog's belly as he imagined pulling such noises from his lover in a different setting.

But then…then slowly his lover waded into the river before completely submerging himself. For a moment or two, Azog held his breath, waiting to see what would happen next. And as if a siren from the deep, Thorin rose, back arched and hair flying like black silk in the wind, as he let out the most beautiful sounds of contentment. It took all of Azog's self control not to run forth and carry his lover away to ravage him stupid.

It was only after watching for a few good minutes that Azog was finally able to command the use of his limbs and took off into the woods, the sight of his könül rising from the water, bare as the day he was born, and glistening in the spring sun burned into his eyes.

He collapsed against a tree and attempted to will his arousal away. But every time he closed his eyes all he could see was his **könül**. His strong and agile figure. His smooth pale skin slick with water. His face relaxed as he submerged himself in the cool spring.

Oh… How sweet his dwarf would look in arousal. His smile sweet and eyes glazed. His body would be utterly relaxed as Azog drank in the sight of him.

Shaking his head, Azog attempted to ride his mind of such thoughts. He had yet to earn Thorin's hand. They were not even courting. And to have seen his könül so vulnerable… He knew not all kept to the older customs of chastity and he was no innocent himself, but he was king and his Thorin deserved more respect than this.

But still… He could not remove the image from his mind. That smooth, pale skin, unmarked by war shinning softly in the sun like the most precious of gems. His hair, free of braids, swooping along his backside and floating along the river like a halo. The sound he had made when he had entered the stream, the low soft moan that had carried through the air and settled low in Azog's stomach.

With shaking hands, he undid the lace of his beeches and wrapped a hand around his hardening cock.

He can see it. The way Thorin would look spread out on their marriage bed. Dressed in the finest that** Ev** had to offer his beloved, Azog would carefully peel back each layer of cloth and kiss every inch of skin, a gift in its own right. He would worship his beloved like the deity he was with tongue and teeth and fingers wet with spit stolen from his beloved's mouth until Thorin lay breathless, hopelessly aroused and bare in front of him.

Thorin would whine and moan, soft and sweet, But he would not ask for more even as his body arched up into his touch. He would never beg. His pride to great…but not for long.

Slowly and carefully, Azog would open up his love with first tongue and then fingers. Thorin would be bashful. That sweet blush he'd been able to catch a glimpse of here and there would stain his cheeks red from arousal and shame as he protest.

But Azog would ignore him, busy enjoying his taste and smell and touch. The way his Thorin squirm above him, unaware that such an action so dirty could be so pleasurable. He'd make this beautiful face, as if he were in pain. And the noises he'd make…

Azog bit his hand to stifle a moan as he increased his speed. Letting his head rest back against the trunk and closed his eyes, sinking back into his fantasies.

Then Azog would curl his tongue just so and he'd clamp down, whole body coming alive, humping the air like a she-Warg in heat.

And when he knew Thorin was good and ready, when his voice had begun to just edge desperate, he'd add a finger. Not at first though, first it'd be a pressure light and then growing harder and harder the more Thorin squirmed. Until finally, he pushed in.

It would be tight. **_Östa_**, he'd be so tight it would burn for all the oil he'd applies. Azog would go as slow as he could, pushing in until the knuckle and letting Thorin adjust to the intrusion before pulling out. Shifting up, Azog would lean over and take Thorin's cock in hand and stroke slowly.

After a while, Thorin would relax, a whole body shudder as he settled back into his pleasure. Time would pass as Azog enjoyed the sight of his lover thrusting down in his finger before adding a second. Again, he would let it sit for a while before slowly working his lover open, opening his fingers as wide as he could, thrusting every now and then much to Thorin's delight.

And then finally, Azog would add the third. It would sting again, Thorin's ass clenching around the intrusion. And Azog would curl his finger's up to find that _spot_ and Thorin would scream, back arching as Azog applied steady pressure.

Until finally he couldn't take it and Thorin would come from the assault on his prostate, untouched and violent. And Azog would be ruthless, stabbing and pressing throughout his orgasm until Thorin lay utterly spent and twitching.

Azog let lose another series of moans as he smeared his pre-cum up and down his shaft, picking up speed as he went until he was rutting into his hands. Azog could just imagine Thorin's face screwed up in pleasure, mouth open and eyes closed.

And once, Azog was sure Thorin had calmed enough, he'd remove his fingers -much to Thorin's annoyance - before he slicked his cock.

Positioning in front of Thorin's entrance, he'd look up and ask "Are you sure?"

There would be a pause, a brief moment for Thorin to weigh his sincerity, before nodding, "Yes."

And then gone would be the gentleness as Azog rammed his cock inside, not pausing for his lover to adjust as he fucked him into the mattress.

Azog knew he wouldn't be lasting very long as he thrust harder and faster into that willing, sweet body beneath him. And Thorin would be just as desperate as he rocked forward, wrapping his strong legs around Azog's waist and clawing at his back. They'd kiss, messy and wet and sinfully dirty as Thorin moaned into his mouth, all shame gone.

Shifting, he'd change the angle so he was pounding against Thorin's sweet spot, it would only a half a dozen brutal thrusts before Thorin came with a scream of his name.

And with a mighty cry, Azog came as he squeezed his hand tight in a cheap imitation of how he imagined Thorin would feel as he tightened when he came.

Cleaning himself up, he stood on shaking legs. It was decided. He would have Thorin by his side by the next full for he would not survive much longer without his Thorin.

* * *

**A/N:**

***Translations:**

**Böyük Hekayə** - The Great Epic - One of the longest and driest of Orc poems.

**Note:** I do not approve of stalking. You should not stalk people, online or in real life. If you find yourself acting in a "stalker-ish" manner please get help. Such behavior can be emotionally, physically, and financially dangerous to both yourself and your...victim.

**Thoughts on This Chapter:**

1 - I can't write smut. At all

2 - WOULD ANYONE LIKE TO WRITE SMUT FOR THIS STORY?

3 - **_PLEASE!_**

4 - It's also been decided by me that Dwalin and Fili will get their own POVs because I hate myself.

5 - How do I make them all different? My writing style is terrible and singular! I have no range.

6 - Up next, Dwalin.


	7. Time: Part 2

**Disclaimer: I own nothing but my own ideas. **

**Time**

**Chapter 2**

* * *

**Summary: Continuation of "Time": Blodog finally has that talk with Azog**

* * *

**"Qardaş, I must speak with you,"** Blodog said as he entered Azog's private chambers.

It was dark, the curtains drawn and the fire near dying so the low light bounced off the gold and silver to give an eerie sort of glow to the usually elegant King's Rooms.

**"Then speak,"** Azog answered in reply as he entered the sitting rooms and collapsed onto the sofa. He wore the clothes of the common man, his war clothes no where to be found. An oddity seeing as Azog rarely allowed himself such weakness. In fact, his whole behavior was off. For him to simply collapse into the chair, even in front of Blodog who had known him since childhood was...he had not seen Azog so low since the days after Aslir died in childbirth.

Sighing, Blodog bent down and added fuel to the fire. He would not have this conversation in the dark. **"Your Könül suffers,"** he says once the room was brighter.

**"I know,"** Azog chuckles a low, cruel thing. "And I know not what to do." Looking up to meet Blodog's eyes, he sneered, **"But I am too cruel to let him go."**

**"No,"** Blodog grimaced, **"No one can fault you for that."**

**"Accept for Thorin,"** Azog added.

**"Yes, accept for Thorin,"**** Blodog echoed.**

**"Perhaps,"** Blodog suggested after a moment of listening to the fire cackle, **"Perhaps you could win the favor of his Övlad,** Fili?**Show your Thorin you mean them no harm and he may warm to you."**

Azog frowned, **"You truly think it that easy?"**

**"Winning the favor of** Fili **will be no easy task."** Blodog clarifies. Where Thorin tolerated his and the servants presence, Fili had fallen into a habit of snarling at any Orc who dared to come too close to the dwarves and screaming when Thorin was taken from his sight for too long. **"But I believe you should try."**

**"It will be difficult getting the boy alone."**Azog said after a moment of thought. **"But worth it."** Never had Azog so hated being an Orc.

Unknown to Azog and Blodog at the time, but it would soon be necessary to keep the two dwarves apart.


	8. Time: Part 3

**Disclaimer: I own nothing but my own ideas. **

**Time**

**Chapter 3**

* * *

**Summary: **Continuation of Time - Thorin has a dream that may be something more.

* * *

**Warning: **I guess its a bit freaky...

* * *

That day, Thorin spent in bed, fast asleep with Fili cradled close to his chest. Though he didn't know it.

That is the horror of dreams, Thorin will later reflect, as he lay against his Warg, that one cannot tell waking from sleep, reality from nightmare.

But at that moment, Thorin dreamt. He dreamt of his days in Erebor, so long ago, when his beard was not trimmed in mourning and his mother was still alive to braid the token of Durin's Heirs in his hair.

"Do you ever comb yoru hair, _inùdoy_?" his mother pretended to scowl as she gently undid the knots in his hair.

Thorin sighed and tipped his head back slightly to give his mother more room, enjoying the feeling of fingers in his hair, "Why would I do that when I know you will."

"Utterly spoilt," his mother teased, lightly tapping his head with the butt of the comb.

Somewhere to his left, he heard the tumbling steps and loud laughter of dwarflings at play. It seemed Dis and Frerin had returned from their lessons.

"Your siblings will be the death of me," Mama laughed, tying off his beard and pulling him back so his head rested under her chin. "But better happy and making mischief than sulking. Your sister has some lungs."

Thorin nodded, remembering the last time Dis had smiled freely. It had been before Frerin has fallen sick and Fili had turned tw...

But that didn't make any sense. Dis was 8! And Frerin has never fallen sick, not even with a seasonal cough. What had he been thin...

Waking with a start, he sat up and flung the covers off of him and clutched his chest. He could feel his heart racing and tears prickling the corner of his eyes. Damn it! He had to go and ruin it didn't he? Couldn't even have some peace in his dreams.

Besides him, he heard Fili shift and mumble, "Uncle?" he asked, eyes two tiny blue slits in the darkness of the room. It seems they had slept the day away.

"Shhh, go back to bed, Fili," Thorin said, covering Fili's eyes with his hand, feeling his eyelashes flutter against his palm. "I'm fine." It took some time, but he smiled when he felt Fili settle, his break deepening in slumber. He carefully got out of bed, placing a pillow where he sat a moment before for Fili to cling to before making his way to the bathroom.

Sighing, he dunked his head into the basin before grabbing a wash cloth and wiping the back of his neck to get rid of his sleep-sweat. Dreamily, he watched a droplet of water slip down from his eyelash along his cheek to drop off his chin. Slowly, he re-drew the path his finger and noticed the dirt under his nails. It was black.

_"Oh, Thorin..."_

Hissing through clenched teeth in an aborted shriek, he spun around and nearly lost his footing to collide with the table and send the basing shattering to the floor.

"_Shhh, my dear, do not worry so. I will not hurt you_," the voice resounded through the room. It was a warm voice, a voice that called for you to trust it.

"_Who are you?_ Thorin asked, slowly letting go of the table and walking into the main room where he could see no one but Fili, still fast asleep in their bed. Outside, he could see the moon was full.

"_Come with me and I will explain..._" The voice called to him as the door to their rooms opened.

Outside, the hallways where lit and the guards nowhere to be found. But still the voice beckoned him and he followed. Why did he follow? Thorin did not know. But he felt safe with this voice as he felt safe with his Mother and Dwalin, both who he missed so dearly that he felt surely his heart would fall out of his chest if but to ease his suffering. And so he missed the voice so dearly when it did not speak to him that at times he would break into a run, breath harsh and eyes near tears when he felt it had not spoken to him enough.

Finally, he found himself at the set of two doors, deep in the center of Azanulbizar, doors that led to the Old Mines not yet occupied by the orcs. Pushing the doors open, he felt his breath leave him in a whoosh. All around him, from floor to ceiling, he saw Mithril. Veins upon veins of white gold, shimmering too brightly.

_"It is beautiful isn't it?"_ The voice said as a hand entered his.

Turning, he smiled, _"I wish my family could see this."_

_"One day, they will," _The voice belonged to a handsome dwarf, a bit older than him at 120 or so. He had dark, black hair and a strong Durin nose. His beard, so young as he was, put even his Father's to shame as it flowed in two neat ties to come together in the end at a braid.

Thorin laughed, _"No Dwarf shall ever see the inside of Azanulbizar again."_

_"You do,"_ the Dwarf said, pulling Thorin forward into the mine.

Thorin smiled, a cruel, self-hating thing. _"Who are you?"_ he asks.

_"Can you not guess?"_ he asked, his eyes flashing a Mithril hue just as the ground gave away beneath him.

Screaming, Thorin clung to the Dwarf in front of him. He smelt of dirt and steel and blood. Around them, the veins grew brighter and brighter until Thorin had to hid his face in the Dwarf's neck to keep from growing blind.

When he felt the ground return to them, he feared opening his eyes until the dwarf prompted him so and he let them become slits. It was dark. So dark that he should not have been able to see, for all that dwarven eyes thrived in darkness. Backing away, he turned to the Dwarf only to see he had changed, his face decayed and his eyes gold.

_"Durin,"_ Thorin breathed, air coming out in cold puffs.

Durin smiled, his lips stretching too wide. _"My child, how the orcs hurt you."_

_"I..."_ Thorin shook his head, _"Am I dead?"_

_"Not yet, no,"_ Durin said. Thorin tried not to flinch when he placed a hand on his cheek, _"But soon. I will help you."_

_"Help me?"_ Thorin cried, stumbling backwards. Around him, the blackness wavered and from the corner of his eye, he could make out a tomb.

Durin grabbed his arm and pulled him close, _"No, no, Thorin. Don't run."_

_"Durin, please. You're scaring me,"_ Thorin said, trying to take his hand back, but failing. He was too strong.

_"I won't let them hurt you,"_ Durin growled. His eyes were yellow. Struggling, Thorin lost his footing and fell into Durin's chest when the dwarf had pulled him forward. He smelt of death. _"So you're going to do something for me."_

_"You're mad,"_ Thorin hissed.

_"You think me mad now, but you will thank me later,"_ Durin reassured, _"And so now, you will li-" _Growling when Thorin tried to pull away, he tightened his grip until Thorin stilled, sure his arm would shatter, _"listen to me,"_ he hissed, _"You will kill Fili and..."_

Spitting in Durin's face, Thorin growled, _"I would rather marry an orc!"_

_"I would see our line dead first,"_ Durin snarled, backhanding Thorin so he fell to the ground, skin smarting. _"Now listen to me, Thorin, son of Thrain, son of Thror."_

Seizing his chance, Thorin tackled Durin to the ground and pinned the elder dwarf to the ground, hands under his back and legs pinned by Thorin's own. Wrapping his hands around Durin's neck and squeezing, he snarled, "No one hurts my Fili!"

Durin's flesh was slippery and cold under his hand and Thorin closed his eyes, unsure if he'd be able to stomach watching the life leave another dwarf's eyes. It was only when he felt the neck in his hands grow slim that he opened his eyes and felt his heart die as he came to understand what he saw.

Beneath him, Fili stared up at him, eyes betrayed and expression stone still.

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**A/N: YAY! One chapter left for Time!**


	9. Time: Part 4

**Disclaimer: I own nothing but my own ideas. **

**Time**

**Chapter 4**

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**Summary: Thorin does what he thinks is right.**

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**Warning: sad**

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Azog was in the middle of Council when the Guard receiving.

He was a young Orc, a new recuit by the stiffness of his back. He was wheezing."Sir, you are needed," The Guard said between breaths, clutching his chest. There was a fear in his eyes that Azog had not seen in a long time.

He took a moment to schedule another meeting before he was following the Guard through winding hallway to winding hallway until they're nearing the Royal Hall where Azog felt his heart plummet. What had Thorin done now?

The first time Thorin had tried to escape, he'd nearly succeeded.

Azog had been hopeful that Thorin would be able to adopt to his new life easily, but he had misjudged his **bədhövsələ** and Thorin had made it to the outer ring of Ev before being stopped by a pair of local gate guards. After that, he'd tripled security to keep that from happening again, but Thorin had still managed to slip past his guards five more times. For his guards to have coming running for him, to barge in on a Council Meeting, Azog can only imagined the chaos.

And so when they reached Thorin's room, he was not surprised, though a bit disappointed, to see what looked like half of his royal guard wandering in an out of Thorin's rooms.

"Brother," Blodog called, clasping a hand on his shoulder and leading him into Thorin's rooms. He had never set foot in here since delegating it as Thorin's rooms. He had refused to, not until Thorin had invited him in. He was disappointed to see that they hadn't changed.

"**What is going on, Blodog?"** Azog asked as he was lead to the door to the bathing chambers.

Blodog smiled, but his eyes were far too sad, "**Your ****Könül**** calls for you." **He said, before calling to the door, "He is here, **mənim şahzadə**."

...

Thorin felt a weight leave his shoulders when he heard Blodog return with Azog in tow.

Sitting up, unaware of the shattered pieces of the basin still scattered across the floor, he let his head fall against the door with a soft thump, "Can you hear me?"

Outside he heard movement before the orc king answered, "Aye. I hear you."

If the situation was any less then it was, Thorin knew he would have laughed at the accent now that he couldn't see the face behind it.

Pathetic.

"You love me, right?" Thorin asked.

Again there was silence before Azog replied, "Of course."

Thorin laughed quietly, "Of course," he repeats, "Of course." Clearing his throat, he focused, "On your love for me, swear to protect Fili from anything at all costs."

...

Once again Azog could saying nothing and he looked helplessly to Blodog for help, but his friend, who Azog realized had probably heard nothing from his place above, shook his head.

"Thorin..." Azog swallowed, "Thorin, if someone has threatened..."

_SmASH! _

Azog jerked back, voice lodged in his throat, as he heard Throrin snarl, "Swear! You claim to love me then swear!"

"Shhhh," Azog tried to calm him down and wished, not for the first time, that he could rip the door off its hinges and gather Thorin in his arms and tell him it was going to be all right. "I swear, Thorin. I swear. Now please...please, tell me what is going on."

There is a moment of silence before Azog picks up on the sound of muffled sobs and can feel his heart sink even further.

"I've done something terrible..."

...

There was silence from the other side as Thorin explained what he'd done; and, when he was done, he couldn't see past his tears. Why? Why had he done it? Why had he had to hurt the one last good thing in his world?

And now he had to give it up.

Once he was down, Azog didn't say anything for long now. If the orc had truly loved him before, there was no way he could love him now. And Thorin wouldn't blame him. Who could love a murder such as he?

For a moment, he imagined he could almost hear an echo of an "_oh, Thorin..._" and it took everything he had not to throw up.

"Thorin, please come outside," Azog asked. His voice was low, pleading.

Thorin's first reaction was to refuse, to remind Azog what he had done. He wasn't safe. He couldn't be trusted.

But that wasn't what came out of his mouth: "Only if my hands are bound."

...

Watching the guards bind Thorin, as if he was some common criminal, was terrible. He refused to believe that Thorin had done what he'd done on purpose. He knew he hadn't. He could hear it in his voice and see it in his body language: the regret, the defeat, the hate. To know how severely Thorin was punishing himself only made Azog hate himself more. If only he was strong enough to let Thorin go!

"This isn't necessary," Azog said helplessly.

Thorin smiled.

Whatever he was going to say next, Azog didn't know and it didn't matter.

"Uncle!" Fili screamed, rushing past Azog to collide into Thorin's leg. "No. No. _No!_," his voice wavered on the edge of sobs, "You can't take him. Uncle. You can't go!"

Azog watched as all the blood left Thorin's face. He knew what Thorin was going to do. He knew. But it didn't stop the feeling of helplessness he felt as he watched Thorin close his eyes and turn away, leaving Fili to grasp uselessly the edge of his nightshirt.

"Uncle?" Fili whimpered, eyes tearing slightly.

Unable to just watch, Azog kneeled and slowly pulled Fili away. Catching Thorin's eye, he silently pleaded for him to change his mind. He wouldn't have hurt Fili on purpose. Why did he insist on punishing them both?

He felt his heart finally shatter when Thorin shook his head.

"I'm sorry!" Fili said, pulling Azog's attention back to watch the tears finally start to fall. "I'm sorry. I'm sorry! Uncle, pl-_please_."

"Be," Thorin paused, swallowing hard as he attempted to collect himself, "Be good for Mr. Azog, OK?"

"No. Nooo," Fili moaned, reaching up with two small hands to be picked up by his Uncle despite Azog's attempt to make sure the child didn't fall out of his arms, "Pwease,"_ hic_, "Pwease, Un-Uncle, Don't go. I'm sorry. I'm sorr-ry. I'll be good. I _promise_. Please."

"Shhh," Thorin tried to reassure him as his own tears fell. It was a horrible image to see such a fake smile color his lips. "It isn't your fault. Don't say such things. Hush, my dear Fili. Everything is going to be fine," Reaching out with his bound hands, he ruffled Fili's hair a bit and allowed Fili to hold his hand for a moment before pulling away, "Be good, ok? I love you. Don't forget, everything is going to OK."

Azog couldn't watch anymore of this and he signaled his guards to take Thorin to his rooms where he'd hopefully be able to talk some sense into Thorin.

He wasn't prepared to have to stop Fili from launching from his arms in a vain attempt to reach his uncle: "Unnnnclleee!"

"You'll see your Uncle soon," Azog tried to reassure Fili. But it didn't seem like Fili heard him as he screamed and pleaded for his Uncle to return long after Thorin had left his sight.

Finally, when his voice was near raw and his eyes had begun to droop that Azog was able to settle the child against him. At that point, every guard had left, unable to watch as the child threw itself into hysteria, and it was only Blodog and himself left.

"Don't leave me, too," Fili whimpered as Azog sat down on one of the coaches, rocking the child in his arms as he had done with his own son when he was small. "I'll be good. Please, don't leave me too..."

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**A/N:**

Sorry this kind of sucks...

Translations:

**bədhövsələ - **Spitfire/hot-tempered/unrestrained - used as a nickname, usually for naughty children


End file.
